by Peter Tonkin
‘Correct, Captain, but, I would submit, not quite accurate.’ Snipe had hold of his lapels now and his hands were still.
‘I’m afraid I don’t quite follow...’ Richard settled on to the flats of his feet. The blue dazzle of his eyes narrowed as his mind raced.
‘In fact, Captain, as owner of both vessel and company, you were, in effect, the controlling mind, no matter who sat in the Captain’s seat; no matter who controlled the helm. No matter what the logs seem to record. Is that not so?’
‘No. I don’t think that is right.’ Richard shook his head decisively. ‘I agree that I am Chief Executive Officer of Heritage Mariner and I also agree that Heritage Mariner owns Lionheart. But I would submit most strongly that I would never overrule a captain whose appointment I had approved, on his own bridge.’
‘Even under circumstances as extreme as these?’
‘There is no point, surely, in appointing an expert to a command post and then trying to second-guess him when he faces the circumstances one appointed him to face.’
‘A good theory, Captain. But is it one you could adhere to? Especially when that commander becomes injured and has to be replaced - by your wife, let us say?’
Richard leaned forward a little, his face folding into a frown. ‘Again, I disagree with your contention, Mr Snipe. My wife is the best qualified officer I know and I would trust her with my vessels and my life.’
‘Very noble,’ said Snipe, almost insultingly dismissive. ‘So, it was Captain Bartlett, was it, who first suggested that he should take his command to the rescue of the Goodman Richard?
‘Yes,’ answered Richard roundly. Then he thought, rummaging through his memory before repeating, ‘Yes it was.’
‘And the Captain would have made that decision absolutely without influence from you? Without the slightest knowledge, let us say, that you were yourself closely associated with the stricken vessel?’
‘I couldn’t say, Mr Snipe,’ Richard replied formally - frostily. ‘You would have to ask him that.’
‘I have, Captain. And he assured the inquiry that you made no secret of the fact that you knew the vessel, and many of the people aboard her.’
‘Then those will be the facts of the matter, Mr Snipe. Though I do not remember making a great point of the relationship with Goodman Richard or the charity board responsible for her.’
‘Well, well. I’m sure that is the case, then,’ said Snipe in turn. He released his right lapel to move some papers on the desk in front of him before he proceeded, silkily: ‘But furthermore, Captain, is it not also the case that, once the decision had been made and Lionheart was proceeding towards Wolf Rock, you personally talked to every member of the crew about their responsibilities with regard to health and safety and even about the new Corporate Killing legislation?’
‘That is correct. As I understand the legislation, my position on the board of Heritage Mariner might make me liable to arrest for Corporate Killing should my company be the cause of death through any action or omission. I wished everyone aboard to be duly aware of that.’
‘Indeed. So, whether under your effective command or not, Lionheart proceeded to Wolf Rock.’
‘That is correct,’ answered Richard a little huffily.
Snipe smiled coldly. More of a grimace than an actual expression. ‘And can you describe what you found there?’
‘The Goodman Richard?’ Richard asked, as though slightly confused.
‘Indeed.’ Snipe was dismissive of Richard’s hesitation; suddenly impatient. ‘Please tell us what you found of the Goodman Richard.’
‘I can certainly do so but I don’t quite understand, Mr Snipe. This inquiry is into the wreck of the Lionheart, surely?’
‘It is, Captain. But in order to understand the damage the Lionheart sustained, we must be able to envisage the condition of the vessel you took her alongside. You can see that, surely?’
‘Very well.’ Richard cleared his throat and frowned with thought, rummaging in his memory again for the facts that would master this sudden change of tack. ‘Goodman Richard was effectively dismasted. She had lost her mainmast and her fore. They had taken her boats along one side, and those along the other were also damaged. No doubt because the spars and rigging were still attached and had smashed the boats that had not been destroyed in the first disastrous dismasting.
‘We were further informed that her captain, James Jones, had taken his senior officers - except for First Officer Ho - in the last seaworthy lifeboat to seek help. There was no way for those remaining on board to abandon. And they needed to abandon somehow as a matter of urgency because the hull was flat on its side and in danger of rolling right over because it was beam-on to the seas...’
‘Technical jargon if you must, Captain, but please explain it as you go...’ Chairman Cross spoke for the first - and last - time during Richard’s evidence.
‘Certainly, My Lord.’ Richard paused, cleared his throat again, rephrased his vivid description.
‘The seas were extremely steep and fast-moving and they were coming in along the ship’s side, causing her to roll further and further over while at the same time driving her rapidly down on to the reefs below the Wolf Rock Lighthouse. The situation could hardly have been more dangerous.’
‘I see, Captain.’ Snipe paused, almost as if he had lost the thread of his examination. Then he looked up in open enquiry, asking simply, ‘And what did you do then?’
‘I discussed with Captain Bartlett the possibility of taking Lionheart on to the lee side ... The down-wind side of the ship. Goodman Richard was very large - four hundred feet in length - and she was sitting high while being held firm by the rigging lost overboard with her masts. I estimated ... Captain Bartlett and I estimated that the hull would form an effective shield against the power of the storm while a couple of us might therefore have a chance to go aboard her and see if we could help.’
‘And, in short, Captain, you and Mr Weary did just that?’
‘We did.’
Over the ripple of sound that went round the court on the simple, modest admission, Snipe continued, ‘That was very brave of you, Captain.’
‘I thought it my duty to help, Mr Snipe.’
‘The newspapers have been speculating that you might be expecting some award for your bravery.’
Richard’s eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it. I believe I did nothing but my duty.’
‘Just so,’ said Snipe, once again almost dismissively. ‘Your personal duty, Captain? Or your corporate duty?’
Richard’s eyebrows came down again and gathered into a frown. It was a frown of real confusion. He had no idea how expertly he was being manipulated. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Mr Snipe.’
‘Ah. Well. Perhaps we’ll return to the point later. In the meantime, you and Mr Weary went aboard, while Captain Bartlett, with your wife now at his side, held Lionheart in the position you had ordered?’
‘In the position we had discussed, yes.’
‘And it was in this position that an unfortunate change to Goodman Richard’s situation led to the damage that sprang such a near-fatal leak?’
‘I assume so, yes. But it is speculation. An extremely large wave caused Goodman Richard to rear catastrophically. Her side hit Lionheart with what might be described in boxing terms as “an uppercut”. I should imagine that it was this that broke the seals on the moveable bow sections.’
‘But, nevertheless, you managed to get all of the crew and cadets off the stricken vessel - in spite of its disastrously dangerous condition. And Lionheart suffered no further damage until your wife ran it up on to the beach at Newlyn.’
‘Thus saving not only the Lionheart’s hull, but the lives of all of those aboard her; yes.’
‘So you say. But, Captain, I would be glad if you could just clear up one last point for me, could you?’
‘If I can.’
‘At what point did you give you
r Corporate Killing speech to the crew and cadets of Goodman Richard?
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I believe you heard the question, Captain. I can’t believe you are suddenly bereft of hearing or of understanding at this stage.’
‘But I never gave any such speech to the people aboard Goodman Richard. Why on earth should I? We were there to rescue them! I didn’t think I...’
‘Didn’t think what, Captain? Didn’t think that you owed them the same responsibility as you owed the men and women aboard Lionheart?’
‘Well, of course not... No. I didn’t!’
‘But we have established, surely, that it was your association with Goodman Richard that took Lionheart to Wolf Rock in the first place...’ Snipe grasped both his lapels very determinedly indeed and sat back down again.
The door into Chairman Cross’s room opened as though this had been some kind of a signal, and one of the suits who had sat clustered around Quentin Carver Carpenter came out. He mounted the third level of the raised platform and whispered something into the Chairman’s ear. Cross nodded once, looking across at Richard.
‘Captain Mariner,’ he said. ‘Could you please step into the office?’
The man in the suit came down again and came forward towards Richard. Richard was struck simply - and solely - by how young his face looked. ‘Could you step this way, Captain?’ he murmured, like a doctor leading a son to his father’s deathbed.
Richard suddenly went cold, deep inside, just as though he had been impaled with an icicle. ‘It’s the twins,’ he thought. ‘The twins have had an accident.’ He glanced across towards Robin. She was seated, frowning. Her face as white as marble beneath her golden curls. Her eyes huge.
The young man took him by the arm and led him up the three levels - two steps up each - to the door. Behind it there was quite a mundane-looking office. Richard stepped into this, struck, if anything, by the ordinariness of the place which had housed His Lordship, the Chairman of the Inquiry. And by the ranks of vivid, beautifully tooled law books on the shelves around the walls.
‘Captain Mariner,’ said the well-suited young man, calling Richard to himself.
‘Is it the twins?’ asked Richard, still terrified.
‘No, sir. It’s not the twins. It’s something else.’
Relief flooded through him. At once his mind cleared and his faculties returned to their normal height.
The young man in the suit was getting something out of his pocket and Richard recognized it at once. It was an ID card. The young man was a police officer.
Richard suddenly became very focused indeed.
‘Captain Richard Mariner,’ the young man said formally, ‘I am arresting you for the Corporate Killing of James Jones, Captain of the Goodman Richard. I must caution you that you do not need to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Richard opened his mouth, then closed it again, too wise to utter the first words that sprang into his mind: For God’s sake make sure that the Bentley’s safe and sound.
THE TRIAL
Chapter 15: Snow Job
Richard was in shock. He was also in a situation far beyond his experience. He had been arrested once, in Hong Kong, but that was long ago and in circumstances utterly different to these. He experienced the succeeding hours, therefore, as a series of intensely vivid, almost dream-like experiences which came individually, without apparent pattern or any meaning beyond themselves.
The young police officer who had arrested and cautioned him took him gently by the arm and began to lead him towards the street door. ‘Wait,’ said Richard, slowing.
‘We can’t do that, Captain. There is a car waiting.’ The arresting officer gently pulled him into motion once again.
‘But my wife is in the court.’
‘She will be kept fully informed, sir.’
‘My solicitor...’
‘You may contact your solicitor in due course, Captain Mariner, but we must hurry now.’
‘My solicitor is in the court.’
‘Then I’m sure your wife will talk to him as soon as she has been informed, sir.’
At the door stood several uniformed constables. As Richard and the arresting officer reached them, so they moved to form a blue-walled passage from the court-house door to the door of the waiting police car. Both doors were open. Behind the constables’ square and solid shoulders, the contents of the press gallery, almost magically enhanced, jostled and shouted questions. Lights for videocams blazed like spotlights, flashes for cameras exploded.
Richard had no alternative but to get into the rear of the police car and the arresting officer sat beside him, pulling the door firmly closed. ‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked. The car began to move.
‘To Snow Hill police station. That is where I am based.’
‘Snow Hill?’ asked Richard. ‘Is that near here?’
‘No, sir. Snow Hill is in London.’
‘Oh for God’s sake! All my stuff is down here. My car- ’
‘It will all be taken care of, sir, you must not worry about that. But we must get on. This is a very serious situation.’
Richard was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Yes, of course. I see now...’
And those were the last words he spoke until he was seated in the interview room at Snow Hill Police Station, Snow Hill, London EC1. But in his mind, he began to go through everything he could remember from his briefing on the Corporate Killing law. He had been briefed on the new requirements and responsibilities as the CEO of Heritage Mariner, of course. That was what he had applied to the situation aboard Lionheart in the incident which caused the inquiry he had just left. But now he began to apply it to his actions as a member of the Goodman Richard charity board.
Robin stood in the pandemonium of the inquiry room, almost as shocked and disorientated as Richard in the room next door. His Lordship had announced that the proceedings were suspended and left the bench. The court officials and the teams of lawyers were all bustling away, as though they were completely au fait with what was going on. But nobody else around Robin seemed to know any more than she did. ‘What on earth’s going on?’ asked Tom Bartlett.
‘Damned if I know,’ said the Lionheart’s Chief. ‘Sparks?’
The young Radio Officer shook his head.
‘Where have they taken Richard?’ Robin asked.
They shrugged. ‘Into that room...’
‘But why?’
Andrew arrived, having fought his way through the confusion, looking, thought Robin, as though he had been through a hedge backwards after all. ‘I know why,’ he puffed. ‘I think we’d better go somewhere we can talk.’
His tone chilled Robin - but not as much as the sight of the uniformed female PC who followed hard on his heels. ‘Please come with me, Mrs Mariner,’ she said formally. ‘I have news for you.’
‘Is it my children? Oh God, it’s not the twins, is it?’
‘No, Mrs Mariner...’ The PC took her by the arm.
‘It’s Richard. They’ve arrested him,’ said Andrew, taking her other arm.
‘This is my solicitor,’ said Robin to the PC. ‘He goes with me.’
‘Very well, Mrs Mariner.’
She led them to a small ante-room and sat Robin on a spectacularly uncomfortable bentwood chair. ‘I have some bad news for you, Mrs Mariner. Your husband has just been arrested. He is being taken to a police station now. He may be formally charged there in due course.’
‘Arrested? What in heaven’s name for?’
‘I understand he may be formally charged with Corporate Killing, Mrs Mariner.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Richard hasn’t killed anyone. For God’s sake, we’ve just got through proving that he saved more than one hundred lives!’
‘I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you, Mrs Mariner. I suggest you return home and await events. You’ll b
e contacted there.’
‘I’m not going to go back to East Sussex and leave him alone down here, woman! I’ll stay here with him. See what’s going on. Arrange bail-’
‘But he isn’t here, Mrs Mariner. They’ve taken him to London. I most strongly suggest that you go home and wait there for news. We have a team of specially trained officers waiting if you or your family needs any further support...’
The seemingly innocent and supportive words hit Robin like a slap in the face. This had all been carefully planned. They had been preparing this for sufficient time to have organized a support team for her in East Sussex. She recalled her conversation with Richard over the fish and chips only a couple of hours ago. There had indeed been a trap. And now it was sprung. And Richard, it seemed, was firmly caught within it.
She began to get angry then. ‘Right,’ she snapped. ‘Thank you, constable. Tell your superiors that they’ll be hearing from me.’
The PC rose and left.
‘How bad is it?’ Robin asked Andrew.
‘Hard to say. Looks bad. They’ve arrested him for Corporate Killing, according to the people I talked to. They’re taking him to Snow Hill in London to lay charges, apparently. You were right about a trap. Jesus, this looks like a snow job to me.’
‘A snow job in Snow Hill.’ Robin laughed, a little hysterically.
Andrew frowned. ‘You don’t seem to realize quite how serious this is, Robin. I thought you’d been briefed on the new legislation. It’s been long enough coming, after the Herald of Free Enterprise, the Ladbroke Grove crash, Paddington, Potters Bar, Southall and Hatfield. Rail disasters and so forth. But it’s here now, and with all the teeth they promised, designed to hold corporate executives personally and criminally liable for failures in their companies that lead to death. Beyond even the old Gross Negligence Manslaughter laws that most of these matters have been dealt with so far. Corporate Killing is equivalent to Murder in the eyes of the law.’
‘Murder!’
‘Yes, Robin. Murder.’